


the words go away

by EmeraldTulip



Category: High School Musical: The Musical: The Series (TV)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Between Episodes, Bi Ashlyn Caswell, Canon Compliant, Coming Out, Declarations Of Love, First Dance, First Kiss, Flirting, Gen, Getting Together, Homecoming, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Pet Names, Protective Siblings, Seb POV, Short Circuiting Carlos Rodriguez, Songwriting, and then coming out again, and we deserve it, sort of the background of every episode throughout the season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:54:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22358260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldTulip/pseuds/EmeraldTulip
Summary: (alternatively titled: is that a garage door opener?)Seb Matthew-Smith has never been the best with words—not that anyone would really notice, because he has as many friends as he has fingers on one hand.Then sophomore year brings the musical, feelings, and Carlos Rodriguez.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Ricky Bowen/Nini Salazar-Roberts, Seb Matthew-Smith & Ashlyn Caswell, Seb Matthew-Smith & Everyone, Seb Matthew-Smith & Nini Salazar-Roberts, Seb Matthew-Smith/Carlos Rodriguez
Comments: 15
Kudos: 127





	the words go away

**Author's Note:**

> godDAMN y'all I dont even know where this all came from. I just had the idea and it all... is on your screen now. idk.  
> this is dedicated to the hsmtmts discord server! there are too many of y'all to tag but. it's for you no doubt no doubt  
> this fic stretches from the first day of school (same as episode 1) and ends just after the finale. I am fairly certain the timeline makes sense even without labels. titled after I think I kinda you know from the show!  
> anywho, I hope you all enjoy!

Seb hesitates a little as he approaches the familiar doors, letting people stream past him and into East High. _New year, new me, right?_ he asks himself. Not that there was anything wrong with him last year, he’s just… a little lonely. Now that Heather is in college, he doesn’t have any upperclassmen to protect him. He also doesn’t really have any friends, other than—

“Hi, Seb!” Natalie calls, bumping her shoulder into his and nudging him inside. “How was your summer?” They’ve texted, obviously, but it isn’t the same as talking face-to-face, and Seb is glad to see her.

“Good,” he says. “Busy. Lots of work to do on the farm, and my sister brought home a stray cat that almost died—he’s fine now, though!” he amends quickly. “But, no, my summer was—was good. Yours?”

She sighs. “I’m just glad to be back, honestly. Maine is nice for like a week, then it’s just boring. Plus, my aunt kept asking me if I had a boyfriend—“ Seb snorts, and she sticks her tongue out at him. “Maine does the impossible—makes me miss Utah.”

“Well, you didn’t miss much,” Seb shrugs. “Oh, although there is some drama with our favorite theater cow, apparently.”

“ _Nini_?” Natalie gasps. “Trouble in paradise?”

Seb shrugs again. “No one knows. She wrote Ricky a song back in June, on instagram, but the post is archived now and she’s apparently been out with another guy—I heard he might be a senior here. Stef even texted me about it, but she has no clue either.”

Natalie _oohs_ . “Well that _is_ tea.” She shakes her head. “Poor girl. I hope she’s not too upset when she gets cast as another tree this year.”

* * *

Well, no one is going to be a tree in _this_ production. Seb would know, he’s watched all the High School Musical movies at least forty times, and there was never any singing foliage.

“Holy _shit_ what was Carlos thinking this is going to be a disaster—” Natalie is talking a mile a minute, and Seb watches in alarm as her face turns redder and redder. “The choreography is going to be hard enough but think about the _tech_ for it? And teaching theater kids to play basketball? They’re all going to be crying, I _cannot_ manage crying freshmen!”

“I don’t think it was Carlos’s fault,” he tries. Besides, he kind of likes the idea.

Natalie stares at him incredulously. “You somehow missed the _entire_ point of what I just said.”

“Seb Matthew-Smith!” someone calls, sounding vaguely threatening, and Seb stops in his tracks.

“Did you piss someone off already?” Natalie chastises him. “We’ve been here for like an hour.”

“I didn’t do anything!” he hisses back, eyes scanning the crowd of students for whoever shouted his name.

Speak of the devil: Carlos Rodriguez himself appears out of the frenzy, squinting around a little before he finds Seb. “Oh, there you are. Hi, Seb.”

“Hi?” He won’t lie, he’s a little confused, and he can see that Natalie is, too. He doesn’t know Carlos very well—they have Trig together, and US History, and the same free period, but they’ve never really been _friends_. Seb doesn’t even have his phone number. “How was your summer?”

“It was good, fine, busy planning for the musical,” Carlos waves it off. “Which is why I wanted to talk to you, actually.”

Natalie interjects quickly, “I had a few thoughts about that—“

Carlos raises an eyebrow at her, and she quiets. Seb is a little impressed; Natalie does not shut up easily. “Can I talk to Seb for a moment, please?”

Natalie looks at him, and he nods. “I’ll see you in Lit,” he says, and she gives him one last dubious look before walking off.

“Where are your glasses?” Seb asks, and then immediately regrets asking. “Sorry. It’s just… I noticed you squinting a little.”

“Oh, fuck,” Carlos sighs, self-consciously touching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, note to self, contacts are stupid.” He smiles sheepishly at Seb. “It was my first time meeting Miss Jenn in person, thought I’d try something new. No one seems to be loving it.”

“No, you look fine!” Seb insists, trying to walk back his comment. _Fine isn’t very reassuring, probably._ “You look… good?”

Carlos shakes his head, smiling a little. “Don’t worry about it, I’m not a fan either.” He quickly composes himself. “But, obviously, I wasn’t going to talk to you about glasses, although I like yours. I wanted to ask you about the musical.”

“High School Musical, yeah,” Seb says, self-consciously pushing his glasses back up on his nose after someone jostles him and they slip.

“Yeah,” Carlos grins. “Miss Jenn’s been asking about prospective cast members, and I immediately thought of you.”

Seb frowns. “You did?”

Carlos gives him this look like he’s saying something stupid. “Uh, yeah? Come on, you _killed_ it in Brigadoon last year. You have the best voice in the school, Seb!”

“Well, I don’t know about that—“

“Seb.” Carlos puts a hand on his shoulder, and it takes all of Seb’s self-control not to step back lest he collide with another student. “Your voice is _amazing_. I just wanted to make sure that you’re auditioning.”

Seb nods a little, trying to relax. “I mean, I was planning on it.”

Carlos’s smile widens, his hand falling back down to his side. “Okay, cool! What part?”

“Huh?” Because honestly, Seb was pretty sure the conversation was going to end here, Carlos would have him read for Ryan, that’s that. He’s obviously not a Troy, and they’re never going to cast him as Sharpay even if that’s what he wants, so—

“What part,” Carlos repeats, “do you want to play?”

“I mean—I thought, uh,” Seb stutters, “I thought you’d ask me to read for Ryan.”

Carlos’s face doesn’t change from genuine attentiveness. “Seb. If you want to read for Ryan, then you can read for Ryan. If you want to read for Troy, or Chad, or Sharpay, or _whoever_ , then you should read for them; it’s all the same to me as long as I know that you’ll be singing. Up to you.”

“Oh,” Seb says. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Carlos grins.

“Yeah,” Seb repeats, and he can feel the smile creeping over his face. “Well… I guess I want to read for Sharpay, then. If that’s okay.”

Carlos snorts, and Seb realizes he’s laughing. It’s not mean laughter, though, like the seniors. It’s warm and sweet, undeniably comforting and—if Seb were bolder, allowed himself to look at the scrunch of his nose and the humor in his eyes—cute. “More than okay. I asked, didn’t I?” He snort-laughs again. “I’ll see you at auditions, then!” He gives a little wave as he steps back into the flow of traffic, getting swept up in the stampede of high schoolers.

“See you,” he responds belatedly, hand still raised as a goodbye.

* * *

_Oooookay,_ he says to himself, catching Natalie’s eye from across the stage. Whatever Nini is up to, it’s getting a little awkward, especially with the new girl glaring daggers at her. And speaking of the new girl, _wow_. Seb doesn’t think he’s ever seen somebody dance like that. With any luck, this cast is going to be better than Brigadoon. And best wishes to Nini with trying for Gabriella, have fun with that.

“You’re reading for Ryan, right?” Miss Jenn asks as she steps in front of him, already shuffling through her stack of scripts, and Seb freezes, his mouth half-opened with no words to say. It’s stupid, but she says it so nonchalantly, like it’s obvious, and it stings.

“Actually,” Carlos interjects, quickly stepping up to join Miss Jenn, “I think he’d rather play Sharpay.”

He holds his breath as Miss Jenn turns back to look at him, fixes a smile on his face, and tries to refrain from audibly sighing in relief when she doesn’t laugh.

“I love that,” is what she actually says. “That is so fresh.”

She walks away, Carlos stepping into her place to hand Seb the script, and Seb mouths, _fresh_? Carlos just shrugs and hurries down to the director’s table.

* * *

“Do you mind reading the accompaniment for the solos?” Miss Jenn asks, and he looks up from his script. “Carlos said you played piano.”

Seb’s eyes immediately dart over to Carlos, but he’s discussing something with the new girl. Seb must have only played maybe _once_ in front of Carlos last year, how on Earth does he remember that? “Uh, yeah, sure,” he answers. “I mean, no, I don’t mind, I can do it.”

She smiles gratefully and speeds off yet again.

“A quadruple threat, huh?” Ashlyn Caswell says from behind him, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. “Whoa! Sorry.”

Seb simultaneously feels pale and flushed. “It’s… okay. What?”

Ashlyn still looks a little startled by his rather violent response, but she explains: “I mean, you sing, you dance, you act. Triple threat, right? And then you also play piano. Quadruple threat. Not a real thing, but fun to say.”

“Don’t you do all of those things, too?”

She makes a face. “I’d hardly call myself a dancer. Or an actor. I usually play characters who are basically me.”

Seb shakes his head. “Don’t sell yourself short, Ashlyn, I saw you last year. You were great.”

She puts her hands up in a placating gesture. “As long as Carlos doesn’t kill us with the choreo, I’ll be fine, I think.”

“If you play Ms. Darbus, you won’t have to worry about that so much,” Seb shrugs. “Your cousin, on the other hand…”

“Shoe-in Troy,” she sighs. “I almost hope he doesn’t get it, but… there isn’t much competition here, since you’re not going for it.”

“Could you _imagine_ me as Troy?” Seb laughs. “Horrible.”

Ashlyn shrugs. “You have a great voice. And, anyway, it’s fun to play hetero sometimes.”

“Since _when_?” Seb demands, and then his mind takes a pause because 1. Ashlyn definitely just insinuated she knows he’s gay, and 2. Ashlyn definitely just insinuated that she… also isn’t straight?

He must be making a face, because Ashlyn looks him in the eye. “I’m not, by the way,” she deadpans, and then laughs a moment later. “Dammit, I can’t hold a pokerface. But, you know, I’m not. Straight. Like, boys are good… but girls are also good. And anyone, honestly.”

“Oh, uh,” Seb is still not quite functioning. “Cool. I’m… gay?”

“Uh huh,” Ashlyn grins. “I’m just letting you know that you don’t talk very quietly in the parking lot with Natalie. I think I know more about your boy problems than Nini’s, and she’s dating EJ.”

Seb groans, burying his face in his hands. “ _Why_ did you tell me that. Ashlyn. Why.”

Ashlyn pats his arm. “It’s all good. I don’t think everyone, like… knows, if that’s your worry.”

“We should start a GSA or something,” Seb says weakly, through his fingers. “That’s awesome. Utah here we come.”

Ashlyn just laughs again.

* * *

Carlos has practically the entire cast hot on his heels as he walks into the hallway, and Seb is no exception. He thinks it’s a little odd that Miss Jenn has decided that she can come up with a cast list in about ten minutes, especially considering the train wreck that was Ricky Bowen, but hey, he won’t complain. And speaking of Ricky—

“Incoming!” Carlos shouts, pushing past Ricky and Nini, the paper in his hand held high. He presses it against the wall and smooths down the tape, idling in front of it for just a moment too long before stepping to the side. Stef gets there first, letting out a small hiss of disappointment at her ensemble role—she’s the understudy Kelsi, though, and Seb gives her a small smile of encouragement. Rico pushes to the front next, lets out a little whoop, and lifts a hand for Seb to high-five.

“Yeah, Ryan!” someone cheers from somewhere to the side of them, and Rico puts his hand under his chin in a kind of mock-angelic move. He’s Ryan, and he’s excited for Seb, which means…

_No. No way._

Rico pulls Seb to the front of the group to peer at the list, and for a second he isn’t convinced that this is real life.

_Seb Matthew-Smith ———— Sharpay Evans_

* * *

Rehearsals are… good. They really are. Tough, super complicated, but amazing. Seb also has gained seven instagram followers, which has never been the intention but is a nice bonus. He’s also tagged in a couple more posts, but the real benefit is that it helps him learn a little more about his cast mates.

For instance, Rico really loves posting pictures of his food—a lot of dishes Seb can’t even fathom trying to name. He’s never really understood that food-picture trend, anyway, but hey, it makes his stage brother happy.

Charlie is almost entirely a shitposter. Seb doesn’t get a lot of the memes—he doesn’t watch a lot of TV—but Charlie seems to have taken to posting animal videos on their story, which Seb watches almost religiously. He also needs to ask them where they get their cool shirts.

Big Red’s instagram is almost entirely blurry pictures of Ricky. His stories are literally always blurry pictures of someone who may or may not be Ricky.

But it was actually Carlos who followed him first—Seb had been a little more timid with that button than with the other kids. Carlos is just a step up, after all; the teacher’s assistant, the student choreographer, brilliant at everything. He has creative control over this whole musical, and Seb didn’t really know how Carlos might go about it, whether he would step away from the other students or not.

But then his little icon popped up in Seb’s requested menu, and with barely more than a thought, Seb hit _follow back_.

He laughs a little when he sees Carlos’s latest post—the ill-timed selfie from their table read. He swipes to the next slide, laughing a bit at the slightly blurry look of panic on Carlos’s face the moment after Miss Jenn told him off. The third and final picture of the set is a cast picture, taken by… Red, probably, since it’s kinda blurry, _wow_ that kid has a weird name. A couple people in the photo have their eyes closed, but Carlos doesn’t, and Seb assumes that’s why he chose this one.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Nini asks, plopping down on the piano bench next to him. He can hear a couple of ensemble members halfheartedly singing lines from Getcha Head In The Game, which explains why Nini isn’t dancing.

“Nothing, just instagram,” Seb says, stowing his phone away in his pocket. He already follows Nini, has since audition day last year. They aren’t exactly friends either, as per usual with this group, but Nini has always been nice to him.

She laughs a little. “Well, don’t let Miss Jenn catch you.”

Seb grins at her, a little unsure of what to say. “So, uh, how’s rehearsal going for you so far?”

He can tell it’s a bad question, because her smile dims. “Oh, it’s… fine. I mean, it’s as good as it can get with my ex-boyfriend here, a freakishly bendy girl who hates me, and I can’t find my phone today, which is, you know, awesome.” She sighs heavily. “I mean, I really do love theater. I’m so happy I got Gabriella, I’m so lucky. It’s just…”

“Not the way you wanted it to happen?” Seb offers, and she nods.

“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, exactly. You get it.”

Honestly, he does. He’s had a pretty good high school career so far, nothing gone too wrong, a really good family to support him. But he’s also just so _lonely_ , and that’s not at all what he expected two years ago.

“Nini!” Gina calls. “Come on, we have to keep working through this dance break!”

Nini grimaces at Seb. “Wish me luck,” she says, and he gives her half-hearted jazz hands.

* * *

It’s not his fault. It’s _totally_ not his fault that he and Rico can’t get this dance down. It’s just that things have been super distracting lately—Nini seems to be going _through_ it (again), with EJ this time, and it appears Seb has gotten into her good graces enough so that she texts him about Ricky far later than he has any business being awake. Ricky is _not_ a good scene partner—he’s so stiff it’s like he’s talking to a less-attractive version of a Zac Efron cardboard cutout. And Carlos’s choreo is _so difficult_ —

“Okay, no,” he says, stepping away from Rico the moment before they can lose their balance. “This is… this is…” He sits down on one of the boxes, massaging his temples.

“Seb, it’s not _that_ hard, is it?” Carlos asks, mouth twisting down into a frown, and Seb lets out a groan and hopes it’s enough of an answer.

“It is a little bit, dude,” Rico mutters.

Carlos sighs. “Let’s call it for today,” he decides. “Just… keep drilling it separately until I figure something out, okay?”

Rico takes off immediately—Seb knows he keeps his stuff in his locker—and Carlos begins to pace around the bomb shelter. He’s humming something under his breath, which Seb recognizes after a moment as the instrumental track to Bop To The Top.

“Carlos, you’re freaking yourself out,” he says softly.

Carlos freezes in place, fingers tapping rhythms onto his thigh. “Uh. Sorry. I’m just… I don’t know what to do, I really didn’t think I made it this hard, and now I feel bad.”

“No!” Seb nearly shouts, catching himself and blushing a little. “I mean. It’s our fault, we just need to practice. You wouldn’t choreograph something we couldn’t dance.”

“Yeah.” Carlos still looks deep in thought, his normally neat hair falling into his eyes, and he makes no attempt to fix it. It’s a little jarring, seeing Carlos like this, but though he looks tired, Seb still thinks he’s wonderful.

_Wonderful? Stop that._

“Hey,” Seb says before he can think of anything else stupid, standing and walking over to Carlos. “You can do the dance, right? Show me.”

Carlos stares at him blankly for a moment. “What?”

“Show me,” Seb repeats, before he can overthink things and feel even more stupid. “You dance for Ryan, lead me through it.” He holds out a hand.

“Oh… kay,” Carlos says, staring at him for a minute before taking his hand. “Well, obviously, first get into starting position.”

Seb obliges, putting his other hand on Carlos’s back. It takes a little bit of adjusting—Carlos is a bit shorter than Rico—but Seb settles after a moment. “Now what?”

Carlos clears his throat, and his breath is warm against Seb’s cheek. “Well, let’s run it. Slowly.” He carefully extends his foot and Seb mirrors him, doing his best to remain steady. They get through about half of the routine before Seb hesitates, bringing Carlos to a stop with him.

“The floor spin is where I really get stuck,” he says, and Carlos hums. The fact that he can feel the vibrations against his arms and chest makes him realize that, even though they’ve paused their dancing, they’re almost swaying in place as Carlos contemplates the next move.

Carlos smiles at him. “Do you trust me?” he asks, and Seb is instantly wary of his overly charming look.

“Yes, but—”

“Then trust me, Seb,” he says. “You know the moves, Rico just isn’t leading enough. I got you.”

“Alright,” Seb concedes. “Count me off?”

Carlos grins. “Three, two, one, go!” He pulls and Seb lets himself drop, and—

“Did we do it?”

Carlos lets go of Seb’s hand to clasp his own together. “Fuck yeah we did! I told you, I got you.”

Seb laughs, a little overwhelmed, and hugs Carlos. He pulls back fast, because he can feel Carlos tense up. “Sorry.”

“No!” Carlos giggles nervously. “I just… wasn’t expecting it. Come here.” He offers Seb a real hug, and Seb of course takes it, feeling better than he has in weeks.

“This was really helpful, Carlos,” he murmurs into his shoulder. “Thank you.”

Carlos seems anxious, for some reason, and Seb only becomes more sure of it when he speaks next and his voice wavers a little. “Do you want to… do this more?” he asks, and Seb pulls back.

“Like, you walking me through all your choreo?” Seb hashes out. “Yes! Absolutely, yes. When?”

Carlos’s face breaks into a grin. “Oh! Well, uh, I’m usually here during zero period, and my frees on Tuesdays and Thursdays. We should… wait a minute.” He jogs over to his backpack, leaned against the wall, and pulls out his phone. “Can I get your number? We can coordinate better.”

Seb takes the phone, typing in his phone number and then handing it back. “I can be here tomorrow, seventh period,” he offers. Their free.

Carlos smiles down at his phone, and then Seb’s own phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out and sees one new text notification:

_Works for me._

* * *

So, maybe Seb has perfected Bop To The Top in the days since then. And maybe he still asks for extra rehearsal time with Carlos anyway. And _maybe_ he purposefully stumbles on a downbeat so he can feel Carlos’s hands on him to keep him steady, to see that fondly annoyed smile as Seb blushes.

And yes, Seb is aware of what this means. He can’t say he minds, because Carlos seems to… like him, too, somehow.

Another zero period comes and goes in a whirl of sneakers and twirls and dips, but it’s _different_ today. It’s different today because it’s homecoming day, and Seb doesn’t have a date—yet. _If all goes well,_ he thinks ruefully.

Carlos eyes the clock as they break, not noticing as Seb watches him grab his water bottle, still feeling the ghosts of Carlos’s arms around him. Seb realizes after a moment that he’s just kind of standing there, and he forces his feet to move to get to his own water, plopping down into a chair. Carlos joins him a moment later.

“You’re really getting better,” he smiles. “As long as you and Rico get it together, it’s going to be awesome, I know it.”

“I don’t get it,” Seb frowns, because he really doesn’t. “When I dance with you, it’s easy. When I dance with _Ryan_ , I’ve got two left feet.” He isn’t lying—Rico is very difficult to dance with, for some reason. Much more than with Carlos. He wonders if it’s a subconscious sort of thing.

Carlos’s smile doesn’t fade in the slightest—in fact, he half-giggles through his response. “You just gotta drill it, Seb.”

“I practice every night in our barn!” Seb exclaims, but he also doesn’t want to weigh Carlos down with his worries, so he leans in a little to make a joke. “My parents think I’m bonding with the livestock.”

There it is—Carlos laughs, the noise catching in his throat like it always does, causing a little snort, and his nose crinkles. _Cute,_ Seb thinks, and for once he doesn’t beat himself up over it.

“I just need more practice with someone who actually knows how to lead,” he sighs, standing and reaching for his backpack on the piano bench. No offense to Rico, of course.

“Well, are you busy tonight?” Carlos asks, his voice pitching up a little, and Seb’s hands stall for a moment above his bag.

“Tonight?” he repeats, wincing when his voice cracks and betrays his nerves. For all the thoughts he entertained about asking Carlos to homecoming, he hadn’t tried to actually act on them. He hadn’t imagined it could happen the other way around. He hadn’t even been fishing for it with his comments about _leads_ and _dance partners_.

He’s nervous, Seb realizes. They both are. But a chant of _ask me, ask me, ask me_ rises above all else in Seb’s head, and he waits.

Carlos grins a little. “Yeah, you know, homecoming.”

It takes all of Seb’s might to refrain from screaming. _Oh_. He didn’t think Carlos would actually do it. Would actually say it. He swallows. “You mean… you and me, dancing together… in front of all the non-theater kids?” He just needs to make sure that Carlos knows what he’s asking. That he’s okay with it.

Carlos’s smile just widens, a little confused. “As far as I know, that’s how homecoming works.” His lips flatten into a line for a moment as if he’s trying to restrain himself before an excited grin reappears. “This would be my first time going.”

 _His first homecoming,_ Seb realizes, because it’s true for him, too. _Oh, oh no._ He likes Carlos. He _really_ likes him. But _homecoming_ … is he really certain that they won’t _run into trouble_ , for lack of a better term? But as he zips up his bag, he sees Carlos’s anxious face in his peripheral vision, and his heart stutters. Carlos just put himself out there, put himself on the line to ask Seb to homecoming. He did something that Seb wasn’t brave enough to do.

He can be brave tonight.

“Text me a pic of what you’re wearing,” he says, hoping Carlos can’t see the ridiculous smile on his face as he rushes out the door.

He lasts all of about five seconds before clapping a hand over his own mouth and screaming, a sound which thankfully is drowned out by the first period bell.

* * *

“Jesus Christ, Seb, you’re hopeless,” Natalie bemoans, hitting him on the shoulder.

“Ow,” he mutters, snapping out of his daze.

Rico rolls his eyes. “Seriously, dude, you’ve been acting even more lovesick than normal today. And that’s saying a lot, because ever since the show started you have been giving him these _intense_ moony eyes.”

Seb splutters, “I’m not—!”

“You _are_ ,” Natalie says firmly. “Because I highly doubt you’re staring at Ashlyn.”

She isn’t wrong. Carlos is standing across the cafeteria in front of Ashlyn, seated at her normal lunch table. They’re discussing something and Carlos is gesticulating particularly wildly, which amuses Seb—and then he realizes that he’s smiling again and he tries to tamp it down.

“Did he say something?” Stef asks, barely looking up from her mozzarella sticks. “Do his hair different? Ask you to hoco?”

She isn’t being serious, he knows, but she hit the nail on the head. Seb bites his lip, not wanting to say it outright just in case a senior jock is nearby, but apparently that’s all the answer Charlie needs.

“No,” Charlie says, loud enough that Stef looks up from her food. “No _way_ , Carlos did not have the guts to do that!”

Seb just grins at them.

Rico stares at him. “He _did_? Did you say yes?”

Natalie hits him, too. “Of course he said yes, dumbass! He’s been pining after him since the auditions.” She fixes Seb with a glare. “You did say yes, didn’t you?”

“Of course!” Seb retorts. “Well, not exactly, but…”

Charlie facepalms. “Oh, god, what did you say?”

“I just asked him to send me a picture of what he was wearing tonight!” Seb mutters, feeling his face burn. “That’s obvious enough of a yes, right?”

“Yeah, it is,” Stef nods slowly. “Damn, Sebby, didn’t know you could be that smooth.”

“That was _smooth_?” He knows nothing about flirting, this is going to be terrible.

But it’s with Carlos. No way it’ll be terrible.

* * *

“This is terrible!” Emma shrieks. “Mom!”

Seb isn’t really listening—he’s on the couch, staring at his phone and willing the picture Carlos sent him to load. The service at the Matthew-Smith house is absolutely abysmal, the loading icon frozen at ten percent.

“ _Mom_!” Emma yells again, sounding close to tears, and that catches Seb’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” he asks his younger sister, whose face is pale. He hears his mother’s footsteps running down the stairs.

“Gertrude is missing,” Emma sniffs. “I just went into the barn to check on her and she’s _gone_!”

“Oh, shit,” his mother says from behind them. He whirls on her and makes a face, gesturing at the distraught thirteen-year-old. “I mean… dangit, okay, let’s round up the troops. I’ll call Ethan and your father.”

As Seb runs to Georgie’s room, he checks his watch. If they find Gertrude within the hour, Georgie will still have time to drive him to homecoming and he won’t be too late. “George!” he shouts, knocking on her door as loudly as possible knowing it likely won’t cut through her loud music. “Georgia!” he tries again, and this time the door flies open.

“What’s up, Bastian?” Georgie asks, clearly jabbing back at the use of her full name.

He doesn’t have time to protest. “Emma’s cow is missing, we need to go look for her.”

“Oh, shit,” George sighs. Seb gives her a look. “Shoot, I meant. Let’s go.”

* * *

It’s two hours later, and no sign of Gertrude the runaway cow. Seb thinks he’s panicking more than Emma is, because he’s sent about a dozen texts to Carlos, none of which have gone through. He’s already late for the dance and there are only three people who can drive him: his parents and George. His mother is on the hunt, as is his dad a few miles away with Ethan in tow, and Georgie is in the barn.

“Mom,” he says the moment she steps back inside the house for a moment to cross another section off of her map. “Mom, I know this is important, but I really need a ride—“

“Can’t it wait, Sebastian?” she says, and Seb falls silent at the full name use.

It can’t, it really can’t, but he doesn’t know how to say it to her. “It’s just… I was supposed to go to homecoming, it’s tonight, and I need—“

She does look guilty, she does, but she also looks a little pitying. “Honey, I’m sorry, but your sister needs all of us to help, and you can’t leave Leo and Layla without supervision. Homecoming isn’t any fun without a date, anyway.”

He can’t say it. It’s embarrassing to have the words stick in his throat, and he suddenly feels so ashamed, pained at himself for not just saying _I do have a date and I can’t let him down!_ His mother is a loving woman, but he just… can’t do it.

* * *

“George, I need you to drive me,” he begs, not ten minutes later. “Please, please, I’ll owe you one. I’ll owe you _three_.”

“Why can’t Mom do it?” Georgie asks distractedly, counting up the remaining cows.

Seb wrings his hands. “She’s too busy helping Em, but I really need to get to homecoming, Georgie, _please_.”

She makes a face. “Never seen you _want_ to go to a school function,” she says. “What’s so big about homecoming? It’s not worth it unless you have a date.”

It lodges in his throat again, but then he thinks about Carlos—who probably thinks he got stood up, by now—and he swallows. “I _have_ a date,” he croaks out.

That gets her attention. “Oh,” she says. “Well, why didn’t you say so earlier? Who is it?”

Seb draws in a breath. He can do this. “He’s choreographing the musical this year.”

Georgie turns fully, eyes wide. “Seb,” she breathes, and then she absolutely crushes him in a hug. She holds him there for a moment, a little stunned, and then pulls away to clasp his shoulders. “Go change. I’ll have the car running in ten.”

* * *

He can’t describe what seeing Carlos makes him feel.

He looks so comfortable on the dance floor, in his element, surrounded by classmates that Seb is pretty sure he’s never even talked to. And as the song fades out and the next one begins—oh, it’s a slow song, _oh_ —Seb uproots himself from his position near the entrance and walks right to Carlos.

Ashlyn says something to Carlos with a smile and then walks away, leaving Carlos staring at Seb. He burns under Carlos’s gaze, but he hopes the red lights will mask it.

“Looks like I missed a lot,” he says, hoping the apologetic tone comes through.

Carlos just blinks at him, looking a little dumbstruck. “The dance started three hours ago.”

“We lost one of our cows,” Seb explains, realizing how stupid it must sound to city-bound Carlos.

“You could have texted.”

Seb winces. “We have really bad reception at the barn.” He just doesn’t want Carlos to regret this—any of it. He wants to make it up to him. “I’m really sorry I’m so late,” he tells him; hopes Carlos can see that in his eyes.

Carlos bites his lip, then makes a little shrugging gesture. “I’m sorry about your cow.” It sounds enough like forgiveness.

They’re standing very close. _Extremely_ close. “A-at least our ties match,” Seb swallows his stutter along with his nerves, letting his gaze travel across Carlos’s face. He’s clearly just as nervous, still a little stunned perhaps at Seb’s sudden appearance, but he does huff out a little laugh as he glances down to see that Seb’s bowtie does indeed match his own.

That laugh emboldens Seb enough to move forward his hands just enough so that his fingers knock into Carlos’s, then carefully laces them together. Carlos doesn’t pull away—in fact, he guides Seb onto the dance floor, bringing a hand to his back. Seb can hear the song loud and clear again, blushes even harder at the mention of _love_ , but allows himself to sway in time with Carlos.

“Thank you,” he mutters, half-hoping Carlos won’t hear.

Of course, he does. “What for?”

Seb suppresses a smile. “After all that… letting me dance with you.” He laughs a little. “That’s all I’ve wanted to do for… a while, now.”

“Oh,” Carlos says, a little breathy. “I mean… I get it. I was afraid you stood me up. That I overstepped, or something.”

Seb shakes his head. “If that was overstepping, then please, continue.”

Carlos bites back a laugh, squeezes his hand, and Seb finally feels okay.

* * *

“You know Mom’s gonna kill us, right?” Georgie asks as she pulls to a stop in front of their house. It’s the first thing either have them said since Seb got into the car for a ride home.

“Yeah,” Seb says, but he can’t be bothered to tamp down the grin that’s been on his face since the moment Carlos took his hands on the dance floor. His palms still tingle a little.

Georgie sighs. “Alright, then.” She flips the ignition off and unlocks the doors. “Let’s hope she’s not awake still. Maybe she didn’t even notice us leave.”

Seb knows that’s probably too much to hope for.

“Sebastian William Matthew-Smith!” his mother snaps as soon as he walks in the door, and he barely winces because he was expecting it. “What did I say about going to homecoming?”

He shifts awkwardly as George gingerly closes the door behind them. “Don’t go to homecoming.”

“Mmh hmm,” she says. “And what did you do?”

“Uh… went to homecoming.”

Georgie cuts in, half stepping in front of Seb. “Mom, it’s—“

“I’m mad at you too, Georgia, so don’t start,” she says firmly. “You two are _lucky_ your father and Ethan found Gertrude, and you are even damn luckier that Emma started watching over Layla and Leo when you left. What were you _thinking_? You two are supposed to be the responsible ones!”

“Mom, he—”

“ _Georgia_ ,” their mother says. “I want to hear it from him.”

Georgie’s eyes turn steely, and she grabs Seb by the shoulders. “You don’t need to tell her,” she says fiercely. “I’m not going to say anything.”

He smiles up at her weakly. “No, George, it’s fine.” He shrugs her hands off and turns back. “Mom… I’m really sorry,” he starts sheepishly. “I… you said homecoming wasn’t worth it without a date.” He swallows. “I had one.”

The anger in their mother’s eyes dims a little, her shoulders dropping. “Seb, honey, you should have just texted to explain what’s going on, that you couldn’t make it.”

“I tried,” he protests. “None of them went through, and I couldn’t just stay here and leave him thinking I was ashamed to be with him!” He snaps his mouth shut as soon as he says it. His mother definitely just heard—and processed—the fact that Seb’s date was a boy.

“Seb…” To his horror, her eyes are filling with tears.

“Oh, no, no, Mom, please don’t cry,” he rambles, taking a step back. “It’s not—I’m not—“

She shakes her head at him, clearly trying to compose herself. “No, Seb, these are—this is good crying, I promise.” She smiles tearfully at him, holds out her arms. “Come here.”

He can’t help the wave of relief that crashes over him as he collapses into her hug, squeezing her tightly. He feels Georgie join a moment later, coming up behind Seb and wrapping her arms around both of them

“I really am sorry, Mom,” he mumbles into her shoulder.

She laughs lightly into his hair. “I know, darling. It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry too?” Georgie offers, and Seb laughs this time.

* * *

He’s still buzzing when he walks into rehearsal on Monday—early, of course, because he knows Carlos will be there.

“Hi,” he calls nervously, and Carlos looks up from his binder full of notes.

“Seb!” Carlos grins, setting the book down on top of the piano and spinning on the bench to face him. “You’re early.”

He can already feel himself blushing—great, awesome start. As if being forced to help incubate half a dozen chicken eggs wasn’t punishment enough for this ridiculous crush. “Yeah, I, uh… I wanted to see you.”

Now, he can actually see the color rising in Carlos’s cheeks as he bites back a smile. “Oh,” he says softly, and then scoots over on the piano bench to make room. “That’s good. I wanted to see you, too.”

And, well, if Seb wasn’t melting already. He sits down on the bench, trying not to combust when their knees knock together and their shoulders brush. “So, fun rehearsal plans today?”

Carlos looks at him and then looks away, his face still a little pink. “Uh, maybe. I’m still waiting for Miss Jenn to call me to confirm, but, hopefully.” He hesitates for a minute before slowly putting his hand over Seb’s where it’s resting on the piano bench. “Either way, there are going to be some good Sharpay scenes today, and I know you’re going to absolutely kill it.”

Seb is floored for a second, and by the time he gathers his wits to respond, there’s a loud chiming noise behind them. Carlos startles and snatches his phone from its spot on top of the piano. Seb notices the name at the top of the screen. “Miss Jenn?”

“Miss Jenn,” Carlos confirms, already standing. “Sorry, I have to take this, I’ll be right back.”

“Why does Miss Jenn have your number?” Seb calls after him as he steps out of the room. “Isn’t that against DOE rules or whatever?”

“Is what against DOE rules?” Nini asks, walking in through the other door. “Hi, by the way.”

Seb blinks at her sudden appearance. “Miss Jenn—never mind. Hello.”

She gives him a tired salute and slouches over to the elevated platform, perching on the edge of it. She’s like the birds that visit his family’s fountain, Seb notices—small and lithe and light in her movements. Not like Gina—Gina is purposeful and puts strength behind her every move. Nini is a different kind of fast.

“I didn’t see you at homecoming,” he remembers as he sits next to her—his weirdly in-depth analysis of the parallels between Nini and birds reminded him of her dancing; and she wasn’t at the dance.

She looks a little surprised. “Oh, yeah, I just hung out with Kourtney. Didn’t feel right to go without a date, after all of… that.” She tilts her head at him. “You went?”

“Um. Yeah.” _She’s gonna ask with who she’s gonna ask with who—_

A sly look alights in Nini’s eyes, and she smirks at him. “Did you _go_ with someone, Sebby?”

“Maybe.”

She claps her hands together, looking gratified. “I won’t ask who unless you want to tell me, but at least… did you have fun?”

Huh. He wasn’t expecting that—he was expecting prying words and semi-friendly teasing, not genuine kindness. “No, it’s fine—I did, it was good—” He cuts himself off, because his brain is overheating. “Nini, don’t you have two moms?” He thinks he remembers hearing about that when they met in middle school—Seb’s first real school.

She clicks her tongue and finger guns at him. “Yes I do.”

“Right,” he says. “I couldn’t remember.” He ducks his head a little as he contemplates his next words, and Nini nudges his shoulder.

“I’m serious,” she says lightly, and Seb can hear the sincerity in her voice. “You don’t have to tell me.”

He grins, embarrassed, because it shouldn’t be this hard when she clearly already somewhat knows. “No, I—Carlos asked me, and I went. I mean, I was late, but I went,” he stumbles over the words as they spill out, hoping they still make enough sense.

“Dammit, Seb!” Nini groans, and Seb frowns confusedly. “I was so sure you were gonna be the one to ask. Rico’s never gonna stop making fun of me.” She glances over at him and laughs at the face he’s making. “Seb, you stare at Carlos literally nonstop through all of rehearsal.”

“That’s not—wait,” he realizes. “Does that mean Rico thought I wouldn’t be the one to ask?”

Nini shrugs, hoisting up her backpack and pulling out her script. “He said he didn’t think either of you would do it, but he put his metaphorical money on Carlos. I, on the other hand, put my faith in you.” She looks him dead in the eye. “Don’t gamble, kids.”

“You’re literally six months older than me,” Seb protests. “But also… thank you?” It is nice to know that someone thought he could be brave even before he decided he would try.

“You’re welcome,” Nini shrugs, her expression quickly sliding into her normal puppy dog-eyed look. “Can you play some Dear Evan Hansen on the piano for me?”

* * *

So apparently he’s brave enough to go to homecoming in Salt Lake City with Carlos, but he isn’t brave enough to tell a bunch of theater kids to shut up.

Carlos does it for him, but Seb isn’t sure it’s a question of bravery as much as it is annoyance. It’s totally justified, of course—Carlos _is_ in charge while Miss Jenn is absent, the forest of boys really isn’t _that_ bad of an idea, everyone else is being so rude and loud, and when Carlos finally snaps and tells them all that Miss Jenn might not come back at all, Seb only feels worry for him.

And a little hurt, if he’s honest.

“You know you could’ve told me,” he says softly, and he watches some of the tension drain from Carlos’s shoulders as he meets his gaze. He can’t help but feel a little pleased that he’s the only one who has that effect on him.

“Miss Jenn told me not to,” Carlos replies, equally fragile, and there is genuine apology in his eyes.

But then everyone is yelling again, and when Carlos declares rehearsal over and storms out, Seb scrambles to shove his music back into his backpack.

“Dammit, dammit,” he mumbles under his breath as he struggles to fit his notebook in, and Nini gives him a rather startled look. He gives her a quick, albeit tense, smile before rushing out, shoving past Kourtney—who didn’t even have a better idea than Carlos, remember. The hallway is empty as he looks both ways, but he has some idea of where Carlos may have gone. He walks as fast as humanly possible without running to the library, peering around. He miraculously spots Carlos, disappearing behind the back row of shelves, and makes a beeline for him.

Carlos spots him before he can say anything. “What?” he says, visibly annoyed. “I don’t need someone else to yell at me, least of all you.”

“What?” Seb half yelps, taken aback, before remembering the setting and lowering his voice. “Carlos, I wasn’t going to do that.”

“Right,” Carlos scoffs, dropping his bag on the floor and taking a few steps forward. “Because everyone in the show is really happy with me right now.”

Seb sighs frustratedly. “Forget about them, they aren’t me.”

“What?”

“Fuck them!” Seb hisses, taking a couple steps forward himself. Carlos’s eyes widen, and Seb can’t deny he’s a little pleased that he can still surprise Carlos like this, but it isn’t the time. “Forget about the musical for a minute. It’s just you and me right now, okay?”

Carlos blinks at him, and Seb is suddenly aware of how little space there is between them—it’s homecoming all over again. Carlos’s gaze flits across his face. “Okay.”

The softness in Carlos’s eyes catches him off guard, somehow, and the words die in his throat, replaced by something new. “I just… I care about you, okay? The others do, too, but not like me.”

Seb watches as Carlos breathes out a nearly silent _oh_. “Seb, I… shit, I’m sorry!” He drags a palm up his face, knocking his glasses askew. “Oh my god, I was such an asshole, I’m so sorry—“

Seb reaches up towards Carlos’s face and settles his glasses back onto his nose, enjoying the way his stumbled apology cuts off. “You were just hurt,” he reasons, only hesitating for a moment before putting his hand on Carlos’s jaw. “And I just want to make sure you’re okay.” He doesn’t bring his hand back down to his side.

“I’m okay,” Carlos whispers, and when he leans into the gentle touch Seb has on his cheek, Seb flushes warm. “I’m okay.” He grins after a moment of their stillness, a little mischievously.

“What?” Seb asks, suddenly wary.

“I made you curse.”

* * *

Clearly, no one is _really_ okay, which is why the entire ensemble is sitting in Big Red’s basement in silence.

“This is a terrible party,” Natalie finally says. “There aren't even pretzels.”

Seb isn’t great at jokes, but he’s pretty sure that if she was trying to break the ice, it didn’t work. If anything, people get angry again, airing out what they think of Miss Jenn’s lies, and Seb almost tells them to just shut up when Carlos says something that makes them all quiet.

“She gave me a shot.” His voice trembles a little, and even from where he’s seated tucked into the sofa, Seb can see the hurt in his eyes. “And it's been a long time since someone gave me a shot.”

If Seb already didn’t feel for this boy, he certainly does now, and he reaches up and puts a hand on his knee. _I hope you know how much I care for you,_ he desperately wants to tell him; tries to say through the path his thumb rubs on faded denim. _Please know that I’m here. Please know that I’m giving you a shot, too._

He doesn’t say it, but he thinks someday he will.

* * *

With the show back on, everyone seems to be in high spirits, and Seb readily agrees to Ashlyn’s party. He texts George as soon as the bell rings, asking for a ride, and she responds within the minute:

_Sure thing. Ask your boyfriend if he needs a ride._

Seb flushes a little, because Carlos isn’t… isn’t his _boyfriend_ , they haven’t really talked about it yet. Nevertheless, he catches George’s drift. “Carlos,” he calls as people shuffle out of the bomb shelter. “D’you need a ride to Ash’s?”

“I thought you couldn’t drive,” Carlos frowns.

Seb hopes his flush will calm down. “My sister offered.”

“In that case, sure!” he says, and Seb rattles off the confirmation text before he hears what Carlos says next. “I’ve been wanting to meet your sister.”

Seb rolls his eyes. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

* * *

He’s sitting in the backset—Georgie insisted it wasn’t gentlemanly to leave your significant other in the back alone—as Carlos clambers in, balancing a long cardboard box in his hand. He’s wearing a sweater with a tiger on it, which shouldn’t be cute but somehow is.

Seb shifts forward to help him, his seatbelt biting into his shoulder, but then Carlos gets the door closed behind him and sits back with an _oomph_.

“I take it this is Carlos?” Georgie says in a conversational tone that Seb _knows_ is totally fake. He glares at her in the rearview mirror, and she winks.

“Yeah!” Carlos grins, evidently not noticing their nonverbal sibling spat. “Georgia, right?”

“Yep,” George says, popping the P as she backs out onto the road again. “You can call me George, though. Or Georgie, or Geo. I don’t really care.”

Carlos nods as if she’s saying the most fascinating thing in the world. “Okay, cool, got it, George.”

Seb slides his hand across the seat and pokes his finger into Carlos’s hand as a subtle _hello_. Carlos looks at him and smiles, picking Seb’s hand up off the seat and intertwining their fingers.

“Are you guys skipping out early on your Thanksgiving for this?” Carlos asks after a beat of slightly awkward silence.

“No,” Seb says.

Simultaneously, George says, “Yeah.”

Carlos blinks. “No, or yeah?”

Georgie laughs. “Technically, we’re missing Thanksgiving. But it’s time to feed the animals, so really, not a bad time to go out if you’re one of the kids who doesn’t want to be a farmer—so, basically, me and Sebby.” She glances back at him. “What about you? Your family doing anything?”

Carlos winces a little. “Well, my family’s from Mexico, and the US is kinda on fire right now, so my parents decided to boycott Thanksgiving. Seemed more fun to go to Ashlyn’s.”

“Ah,” George says, as if she isn’t making a confused face at Seb in the mirror. “That’s… cool?”

Carlos snorts. “It’s not, but thanks. For the ride, I mean.”

“So, what’s in the box?” Seb cuts in, because he thinks he might die if George says anything else to Carlos.

Carlos grins at him. “That’s a secret, dear. And even for you, I won’t ruin the surprise.”

“Well, there won’t be much more time to build up to that surprise,” Georgie says mildly as she pulls into a driveway path Seb vaguely recognizes from Ashlyn’s freshman year birthday party. “Last stop.”

Carlos hops out, pulling the box with him, and Seb clambers out on the opposite side. “Thanks for the ride, Georgie,” he says as she rolls her window down.

“‘Course,” she waves it off, half leaning out of the car window. “One thing, though.” She grins teasingly at him. “He calls you ’dear’ now?”

Seb blushes. “Shut _up_ , Georgia.”

“It’s _cute_ , Bastian,” she retorts. “Call me when I need to pick you up, I’m gonna hang around in town.”

Seb sticks his tongue out at her as she pulls out of the driveway, and she flips him off.

“Seb, you coming?” Carlos calls, already on the stoop, the box teetering dangerously on his arms. “I can’t ring the doorbell.”

He hurries over and rings it for him, letting him walk in first.

* * *

“Ugh, I’m sorry,” Seb says for about the fifth time as he checks his phone. “She’s always late, I should have texted her like an hour ago if we wanted her to be on time. Or you should have just gone with Ricky, you live near Nini anyway.”

“It’s fine,” Carlos says, also for the fifth time. “I would rather not sit in a car with the two of them. Besides, I don’t mind waiting.”

Seb sighs. “We can go back inside to wait, if you want.”

“Nah,” Carlos grins. “Then we might have to help Ash and Red clean up.”

Silence settles on the stoop for a minute as Seb checks his phone again. Starting to feel a little jittery, he shoves his hands into his jacket pockets and glances over at Carlos. The porch light glints off of his glasses as he stares into the dark, and something strange tugs on Seb’s lungs and steals his breath away.

It’s just air, that gap between their shoulders, but to him it feels like glass. He can see what he wants on the other side, but he’s afraid that he’ll break something to get to it.

But then Carlos looks back over at him, and Seb realizes that maybe people are stronger than that. _Carlos_ is stronger than that.

“ _Honey_?” he says, letting a little teasing smile settle on his lips as he repeats the earlier term of endearment.

Carlos flushes, eyes darting down. “Slipped out. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Seb smiles, and he takes his hand out of his pocket so he can hold it out to Carlos. “Maybe I liked it.”

“Oh,” Carlos breathes, and then he unfreezes and takes Seb’s hand. “Seb,” he says.

Seb hums back a _yeah_ and squeezes their interlocked hands.

“Is this…” Carlos trails off. “Can we…?”

Seb’s heart leaps into his throat. He’s amazed he can get any words out at all. “My sister called you my boyfriend today,” he tells him—tells his shoes, rather—hoping it comes out calmer than he feels. “Is that okay with you?”

Seb can feel Carlos’s pulse racing under his fingers, and he’s sure he’s no better.

“More than okay,” Carlos says, and Seb finally looks up at him—he’s grinning, ear to ear. “I would really, really like that, actually.”

And Seb is feeling a little daring now, so he smiles too. “Just so you know, I really really like _you_.”

“Seb!” Carlos blushes even harder, and Seb is almost unreasonably delighted at the sight of the red in his cheeks. “You can’t just—I will do something so stupid if you keep saying shit like that.”

“Like what?” Seb challenges, propping his chin up on his free hand, daring Carlos to do whatever it is. Seb wants to know exactly what Carlos is thinking.

Carlos mutters something under his breath that doesn’t sound like English. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know,” he says, and then he presses a kiss to Seb’s cheek.

Seb feels a flush bloom on his face and travel through every limb, and he moves his hand to Carlos’s neck before he can move away too far. “Can I take you out on a date, then?” he asks, resting their foreheads together. Carlos’s glasses magnify his eyes, and Seb greedily counts the different shades he can find in them. “The movies, or something. You pick, I’ll pay.”

Carlos smiles at him, his teeth gleaming white in the dark, and Seb is suddenly so glad George is never on time. “Sure,” Carlos says, a hand on the cheek where his lips just were. “Take me on a date. Saturday.”

Carlos is a raging fire—quick and nimble in a way that makes Seb tingle all the way down to his toes. His anger is heavy and brutal and the whole cast knows it, ready to be startled by his nerves like they’re hot sparks. But right now… he has softened to a candle, flickering and relegated entirely to one place where Seb can touch him without getting burned.

And even though Seb can feel the warmth emanating from his boyfriend, the press of his palms to the exposed skin of his face, he already misses him. He can’t wait for Saturday.

* * *

“Whatcha working on?” Ashlyn asks the following week, and Seb jumps, reflexively slamming his notebook closed. Some freshman gives him a dirty look across the table—no doubt trying to study in silence—and he grimaces in apology.

“Nothing,” he mutters.

“Ooooookay,” Ashlyn says, clearly skeptical. “I was just wondering—ha—if you wanted to read over the last verse of Wondering I wrote, since you really have a feel for the music—piano and all. I’m trying to finalize things.”

Her song. _The song_. Seb bolts to his feet, snatching up his notebook. “Yes, I can help, but I need _your_ help first.” He urges her behind the back shelf, inserting himself into the corner as he half tries to disappear into the wall. “Ashlyn.”

“Seb,” she counters, raising an eyebrow.

“How do you write your lyrics?” Seb rattles off. “Because obviously they’re from a very real place but you also make them sound good even though the thoughts are all messy and—“

“Whoa, Seb,” she cuts him off, her hand falling onto his shoulder. “Relax. It’s just a song.” She cocks her head. “Is that what you were writing?”

He shifts his weight onto his other foot. “I mean… yeah.”

Ashlyn grins. “Well, having ideas already makes it easier. What’s it about?”

Seb can’t help but blush a little. “It’s… kinda complicated.”

“They always are,” Ashlyn agrees. “Carlos?”

“No,” Seb denies. “Well. Yes. But not just… it’s like, this is the first year I’ve really felt at home, and he’s definitely been a big part of that, and it’s so weird to have friends at all let alone a boyfriend, and I just feel really good for the first time ever. And he gave me a shot in this show, and just with me in general, which no one has ever done before, and I finally feel _alright_. So yeah, it’s a song about Carlos, but I don’t even know if I’m going to play it for him, so for now it’s just for me. Does that make sense?”

“Um,” Ashlyn blinks. “That’s a lot to work with, but… yeah, I get it. It’s like a sort of self-reflection and love confession wrapped into one.”

Seb nods along to her analysis. “Yeah, it’s—wait, love confession?”

She makes a face at him. “Do you hear yourself, Sebby?”

“It’s not a—I’m not saying—Ashlyn!” he waves his hands, trying to stop his face from heating up.

She laughs, dropping her bag on the floor and sitting cross-legged next to it. “Here, sit down. I’ll help.”

* * *

“Nervous?” Carlos asks, leaning against Seb’s back and pressing his chin into his shoulder.

Seb looks at him in the mirror, setting down his hairbrush. They’re a little earlier than most—Kourtney’s been rushing around getting costumes ready and Nini came by to drop her bag earlier, scurrying off when Ricky made an appearance, but since Seb’s costume makeup takes more time, they’re otherwise alone. “A little,” he says.

“You’ll be great, babe,” Carlos assures him, avoiding his cheek—Seb hasn’t gotten to the setting spray yet—in favor of dropping a kiss on his shoulder. “I’m just saying that my parents thought it was so cool that you’re playing Sharpay, and they’re heterosexual Mexicans in Utah, so I think you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Right,” Seb agrees, even though he’s honestly kinda freaked out when he remembers that he’s gay in Salt Lake City. To be fair, he remembers this a lot, but it’s still not that fun.

Carlos wraps his arms around him. “Is George coming?”

Seb breaks eye contact at that. “I think so.”

Carlos frowns. “What to you mean you _think_? If she misses this I’ll fight her dumbass.”

Seb snorts a little. “Please don’t fight my sister, she’ll beat you.” He shakes his head a little, twisting his neck so he can kiss his boyfriend’s cheek. “My whole family got tickets… I just sorta freaked out on them earlier. It’s all good, I’m just… they know I’m nervous.”

“Text George right now and tell her she better get herself down to this school now,” Carlos demands, the smile on his face canceling out his ‘scary’ voice. “You’ve worked so hard for this, Seb, the only obstacle now is you.”

Seb sighs. “You’re right, you’re right.” He spots Carlos’s grin in the mirror and wrinkles his nose at him. “I’m not saying it again.” He picks up his phone and scrolls to Georgie’s contact, typing out a quick message as Carlos turns to greet Stef, who’s appeared at the door.

“I have to go now, love,” Carlos says next to his ear. “I’ll be back before the show starts.”

“Yeah, go,” Seb grins up at him. “You’re distracting me, anyway.”

Carlos laughs as he heads to the door. “That’s what I do, baby!”

* * *

Ashlyn’s kitchen looks a mess.

The dozen or so kids scattered around the living room aren’t likely to help either, and Seb is no exception. It’s getting late, anyway—Nini is half dozing on Ricky’s shoulder, Gina has stopped dancing around the couch, EJ has disappeared upstairs. They’re as much of a mess as the various cups and chip bags all over the counter.

But they’re his mess, Seb thinks. Just as disastrous as his own family.

He thinks that maybe, just maybe, the thing people say about high school friendships being the most important ones of a lifetime are true. Because looking around at all these people—these talented and funny and intelligent people—he can only describe them as his own self-made family, no less important than the people back in his house.

And he takes in all their faces, the exhaustion and pride etched onto every one of them, and he thinks there’s nothing they can’t do as long as it’s together.

* * *

“Fancy seeing you here,” Seb greets Carlos as he steps onto Ashlyn’s front stoop.

Carlos cranes his neck up at him and smiles. “Hey.”

Seb sits next to him, taking his hand. Carlos complies, his fingers going limp as Seb rearranges them to fit against each others’ comfortably. “You alright? They’re kinda winding down inside, I think EJ fell asleep.”

Carlos scoots closer to him, leaning his head into Seb’s shoulder. “I’m fine. It’s just… a lot, you know? Needed a minute. I can’t believe the show is over. All that, for one night.”

“Worth it, yes?” Seb prompts.

Carlos giggles. “Oh, for sure. It’s just weird. Don’t know what to do with myself until spring.”

They sit in silence for a moment, and Seb listens to the sound of his boyfriend’s even breaths. “Carlos?”

Carlos hums, and Seb can feel the vibrations against his shoulder. “Yes, love?”

He’s caught between saying a lot of things, somehow, but the one that slips out is, “I wrote a song.”

“Oh?” Carlos says, lifting his head off of Seb’s shoulder so he can sit up.

“It’s not… done,” Seb admits, his cheeks warm against the cold Utah air. “Yet.”

Carlos stares at him expectantly. “But…”

“But… I will play it for you, eventually. I just wanted you to know that I wrote it because of you.” He stares down at their hands, playing with Carlos’s fingers.

Carlos doesn’t say anything for a minute, and Seb is afraid he made it weird. Then Carlos shuffles to face him, pressing his free hand to the side of Seb’s face. “Hey,” he says softly.

Seb looks up at him and sees the warm fondness in his eyes, how the corners of his eyes crinkle and a dimple appears on one of his cheeks when he smiles. He leans into his touch, letting Carlos’s slender fingers curl under his jaw, and reaches up to push back a loose strand of dark hair that’s fallen over his forehead. “Hey,” he replies.

“I love you,” Carlos says, clear as day, and he doesn’t stumble over the phrase at all.

All the air is suddenly sucked out of Seb’s lungs, just like the last time they sat here, and he flails for a moment—for oxygen, for words.

And words are hard, aren’t they? It’s why he’s been struggling so badly with the song, it’s why he was so late to homecoming, it’s why he was afraid to go on stage. He has every thought in his head but no way to spell them out. And as the minute drags on and Seb remains frozen, dread creeps up his throat because he feels that way too, and Carlos has to know that, but Seb has never _ever_ been good at words and now he doesn’t know what to do.

But the smile on Carlos’s face doesn’t at all fade in response to his silence. “You don’t need to say it, if you can’t—I’m not Nini. I kinda got it with the whole ‘you wrote a song for me’ thing, anyway. I just needed you to hear it from me.”

“Carlos,” Seb says, desperately, and then his mind goes blank so he kisses him.

 _Oh, there’s the oxygen,_ he thinks, because even though his airways are obstructed by another mouth, the vice grip on his lungs loosens up. Despite that, he panics for a moment, because Carlos is tense beneath his hands, and he’s about to pull away and apologize when Carlos lets go of his other hand to put it on the back of his neck and pull him closer.

He feels fingers run into his hair—still a little damp from washing all the glittery hairspray out in Ashlyn’s bathroom sink, but Carlos doesn’t seem to mind. He feels his nose bump into his glasses but he couldn’t give less of a damn, just tilts his head so the tip of his nose is pressing into Carlos’s cheek instead.

They’re both inexperienced kissers—he’s pretty certain Carlos has had very little action in the dating game, all things Utah considered, and Seb’s only experience was with a girl in their sixth grade play. She was Belle, he was the Beast.

This is much better, he decides, and then he pulls back because he really does need to breathe.

Carlos looks a little stunned, eyes wide behind his smudged glasses, and Seb is starting to think he has a problem with how much he enjoys getting Carlos flustered.

“I love you, too,” Seb says, because he can finally breathe enough to say the words.

Carlos goes even redder, which was half of Seb’s intention. “You—I—Jesus,” he stutters, fumbling his glasses off of his face and setting them down on the stoop.

“Nope, just Seb,” he grins, and Carlos whacks him on the knee before leaning in again.

“You’re so dumb sometimes,” Carlos murmurs against Seb’s mouth and Seb can’t help but laugh, a sound that’s swallowed down almost as soon as it burbles up. Carlos has very soft hair, Seb notices as he winds his fingers in it.

“And that’s why you love me,” he replies when they part for another moment, not even moving away enough for their noses to not brush. Carlos just looks at him, gaze sweet and open, and he kisses him yet again, his hands moving from Seb’s face to his hair and his neck, and Seb marvels at the fact that he’s allowed to do the same.

“Yeah, it is,” Carlos gasps, and Seb feels a little bad for stealing his air until he remembers that Carlos is happily doing the same exact thing to him. “And I do. I do love you.”

Seb contemplates a snarky comeback—potentially _I know, I heard_ —but his boyfriend has such an earnest look on his face that he melts under it and just kisses him again.

He’s pretty sure that gets the point across.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are, as always, appreciated.  
> find me on tumblr, my main is [@perseusjaxon](https://perseusjaxon.tumblr.com) and my hsmtmts blog is [@rinaseblos](https://rinaseblos.tumblr.com)!


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